Wrecked
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: When is the world going to understand what family means to the Winchester Brothers? Sam and Dean look after each other once they return from hell. Hurt/Caring/Sam and Protective/Big Brother/Dean. Tag to 11.10 Devil in the Details.


Note: I know that it's a week late, babes! But in my defense I just saw this episode 2 days ago, and I haven't seen the latest one so please be careful not to put spoilers in your comments. Thanks babes! Hope you enjoy it! :)

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Sammy was wrecked.

Not just physically, even though I had to help unfold the kid from the passenger seat, but in every other way.

I could see the terror still shining in his eyes and the constant tremors that travelled through his long limbs. Sam was nervous and jumpy, as though he were just waiting for Lucifer to pop up in front of him.

I parked the Impala and stiffly slid out from behind the wheel, closing the door and looking over the roof in time to see Sam struggling to leverage himself out of his seat. His long legs were shaking like those of a newborn colt.

"Woah. You couldn't have waited five seconds?" I barked out, grabbing hold of Sam's elbow and helping him maintain his balance until his knees finally locked into place.

"I'm fine." Sam rasped, but his hand failed out and locked onto my shoulder as he straightened out his back.

"Fuck." He cursed softly.

I frowned, seeing the pain lining my brother's face and inwardly cursing the devil for putting them there.

"Let's get you inside." I stated, matching the taller man's slow gate as we made our way forward.

I had to tighten my grip on Sam as we made our way down the steps leading into the bunker. The adrenaline the kid had been running off of had faded away, leaving a hurting exhausted man in its wake.

Once we arrived at the bottom, I gave Sam a second to catch his breath, as I assessed his balance.

"You good?" I asked.

Sam nodded and shuffled slow, but steady, down the hall. I watched him go long enough to be sure he wasn't going to end up face down on the floor, before heading in the other direction.

I grabbed the first-aid kit, along with a Gatorade, and an apple before marching back to my brother.

Sam had made it to his room, but instead of heading to the shower like I had thought he would, the kid was plopped at the end of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

The defeated posture sent a pang through my heart as I crouched down in front of my brother. I waited for his tired eyes to travel up from the floor before placing the orange beverage into his one hand and a couple pills into the other.

"Take these." I instructed, my voice nothing more than a hushed request.

Sam didn't even spare the pain meds a glance before popping them into his mouth and chasing them down with a swallow of Gatorade. However, I did receive a questioning look when I placed the apple in his empty hand.

"You haven't eaten all day." Was all the explanation I offered, before giving the younger man an expectant look.

Sam released a tired sigh before reluctantly bringing the fruit to his mouth.

I puttered around the room as Sam slowly nibbled away at the snack, chewing as though it was a most strenuous task.

Once he had given up on the apple, about five bites in, I relieved it from his nearly lax fingers.

"Few more sips." I requested, tapping the plastic bottle.

Sam brought it up to his lips, taking another swallow, trusting him to repeat that motion a couple more times, I dug out a pair of clean sweatpants from his dresser.

"You want to just hit the sack? Or do you wanna shower first?"

I saw Sam's mouth open and close, but heard no sound come out.

"Sammy?" I questioned, ducking to get a look past all his hair and catch a glimpse of his face.

"Shower."

Sam's voice was just as wrecked as the rest of him.

I nodded, wondering if the kid had the energy to even make it to the bathroom let alone remain vertical for any amount of time, but it was Sam's decision and I would not disregard it.

I grabbed the towel off the back of the door and draped it over his shoulder, replacing the Gatorade with the sweatpants. I got a grip on Sam's elbow and helped tug him to his feet.

"If you take longer than fifteen minutes, I'm coming in there." I warned, allowing Sam to shake me off as he trudged out of the room.

The lack of any exasperated response spoke volumes.

I went to throw on some more comfortable clothes, feeling every muscle in my body complain with every movement. I strolled past the washroom and pretended not to hear the sobs that resounded from beneath spraying water.

And fifteen minutes later when Sam returned to his room where I sat waiting, I pretended not to notice that redness of his eyes.

"Sit down and let me look at you."

There was a reason I had only given the kid sweatpants, keeping his upper half bare and allowing me to get a good look at the damage.

Sam sat quietly, willingly subjecting himself to my examination. I started with his face, placing two fingers under his chin and angling it up. Sam studiously avoided my gaze, but allowed me to dab at his wounds with antiseptic wipes. I applied a butterfly bandage to a cut at his hairline, the only one that was still seeping blood. I gently ran my thumb over the darkening bruise on his cheekbone and glared at the other bruises colouring his face.

Next I took care of his hands, his knuckles scraped and bruised; evidence that he had fought back valiantly.

I moved on to his torso, crouching down in front of him. I didn't miss the wince that creased my brother's expression as he straightened up to give me more room to work.

I gently splayed my hand across Sam's rib cage, being sure that no bones gave way at my touch. I was relieved that all my brother's ribs were intact, but I couldn't help clenching my jaw at how prominent the bones were under his skin. Sam's health had taken a big hit when I was a demon and when I had the mark. The damn kid had neglected his own well-being in his desperate search to fix me, and his body was still recovering from the damage the neglect had caused.

I was pondering the idea of forcing Sam to finish the apple he had only managed to eat half of, when his long body began listing to the side.

"Woah, c'mon buddy, just give me another minute, alright?"

Sam's weary gaze met mine for a moment, although he didn't really seem to be seeing me, but he nodded nonetheless.

I moved around, inhaling sharply at the sight of my brother's back. There were angry black bruises running in vertical lines down his skin. I realized that they were likely from the metal bars of the cage. Sam had clearly been tossed at, shoved against, or pressed into them multiple times.

"What the fuck did that asshole do to you before I showed up?" I inquired, not requiring an answer, speaking more to myself than Sam.

He flinched as I placed gentle pressure against one of the many bruises.

"Sorry." I apologized, now satisfied that none of the damage seemed to be internal.

"It's fine." He rasped.

I shook my head.

"It sure as hell isn't fine." I seethed under my breath, wishing that I had been able to tear that sadistic bastard to pieces. I moved out from behind Sam and returned to his dresser, rummaging through it until I found the article of clothing I was searching for.

It was a hoodie, an old one. It had been mine originally, but Sam had adopted it at some point. I didn't really recall when the transition had taken place, but it was a piece of clothing Sam often wore when he was feeling out of sorts. He had worn it quite regularly during the trials. Actually there was still a bloodstain on the sleeve from all his coughing. I had tried to toss the thing upon realizing the blood wouldn't wash out, but the younger man had forbidden it. I hadn't the slightest inkling as to why, but Sam found comfort in the over-sized, over-worn, sweatshirt; and I could never deny my kid brother any sense of comfort. I draped the hoodie over Sam's clasped hands and watched as he immediately slipped it on, the thick fabric swallowing his long frame as he huddled into it.

"Alright, dude, how's about you get some shuteye now." I commented, tugging the covers down the bed, and waiting for Sam to lay himself down, but he simply shook his head and reached out to tug at my shirt.

"It's your turn." His gravelly voice declared, as he pulled the first aid kid closer and patted the place on the bed next to him.

My eyebrows rose.

"Sam, I'm fine, really. I wasn't in there as long as you were." I insisted.

But the younger man simply shook his head, his damp hair swinging back and forth as he gave my shirt another tug.

I was going to continue to resist, but then Sam dragged his gaze off the floor and gave me a full view of his pleading puppy dog eyes.

Sam needed this. He needed to make sure I was okay, just as I did with him.

I released a long sigh before shedding my top layers, dropping down onto the bed, and angling myself towards Sam.

His gaze went from desperate and hurting to clinical as it scanned over me. He examined every mark on my skin, focussing on my face, where most of the damage was located.

He stood abruptly and marched out of the room, and I sat waiting patiently for him to return. When he did he was holding a damp washcloth.

"Close your eyes." He instructed.

I rolled my eyes before obeying.

Sam dabbed at the cuts and scrapes and washed away the dried blood.

"I could have done that. It wasn't anything a hot shower wouldn't have taken care of." I remarked when the cloth was removed and the antiseptic wipes had taken care of the rest.

"Were you going to take a shower?"

Sam asked, as he dropped a couple pain pills into my hand and handed me the Gatorade that had been set on his nightstand.

I shrugged.

Because no, I hadn't intended to shower that night.

It wasn't because I didn't want to wash every speck of hell from my body. It was because I had no intention of leaving Sam alone, not even for that long. Not when the kid's eyes held such terror, or when he was so jumpy – as though Lucifer hid in every corner— or when his mind was plagued with memories more horrific than even I could begin to imagine. I wasn't leaving Sam alone in the state he was in, and I sure as hell wasn't leaving him alone in the state I was in. I had almost lost my little brother. I had almost lost him to the devil…again. My nerves were just as on edge as Sam's, if not more so.

Both my brother and I understood that the next several hours would be full of night-terrors. It was just like the night after Sam returned from the second trial, and he hadn't even come face-to-face with the devil that time. There was no way that after today's events, Sam's mind wasn't going to torture him with memories of his time in the cage. We both knew that fact.

So when Sam finally flicked off the light, laid back on his bed, and pulled the covers up over his long frame, it was no surprise that I flipped open the laptop and sat at the small desk next to Sam's bed.

My little brother curled up on his left side, making himself seem much smaller than a man his size should ever appear to be. His eyes were trained on me, but I knew his mind was somewhere else.

I couldn't stop the yawn I released, but I knew that Sam would read into it.

"Dean, you don't have to—

"Shut up, Sam."

I knew what the kid was going to do, he was going to offer me an out. Give me his permission to go back to my own room and get some rest. But I didn't need an out. I was going to look after Sam. I _wanted_ to look after Sam. It wasn't like I wouldn't be able to hear his nightmares from down the hall, nightmares about the cage never ceased in causing my brother to scream himself into consciousness. But if I stuck around, maybe I would be able to stop the subconscious torture before it escalated to such an extent. Besides, I didn't want Sam waking up alone. Not tonight.

I heard the younger man sigh, but he made no further argument.

For the next several minutes I pretended to be interested in research, and Sam proceeded to stare at me.

I was just about to tell the kid that it would be easier for him to sleep if he were to actually close his damn eyelids, when I noticed the shine of his hazel orbs.

"Sammy." I called softly, waiting for him to register my voice.

He sniffed before blinking back the tears and really looking at me.

"You're not there anymore. He's not here. We got you out, Sammy."

The phrase was all too familiar as it tumbled off my lips. It had been five years since I had first made that declaration to a frightened little brother.

Sam nodded slowly.

"I know." He whispered.

But the waver in his quiet tone and the shutter that traveled up his spine, was all the proof I needed to know that my little brother was scared.

And Sam being scared was all the motivation I needed to shut the laptop down and approach his bed.

"Scooch." I grunted, nudging him toward the other side of the bed.

"Dean—"

"Scooch!" I insisted, giving Sam a stern look.

When was the kid going to learn that he never _ever_ needed to give me an excuse to get out of being there for him? Didn't he understand that I would do anything for him? That there was no chick-flick moment I wouldn't have if it meant making him feel safe?

Once there was a sufficient amount of room, I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto the bed, my back against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of me.

"You're going to hurt your neck if you sleep like that." Sam chastised as he settled next to me.

"Well thanks for your concern _mom_ , but it just so happens that I am not going right to sleep."

Sam's eyebrow rose as he stared up at me.

"Well then what are you going to do?"

I reached over and snapped Sam's phone off his nightstand.

"I'm going to finally beat your Candy Crush score."

Sam let out an exasperated snort.

"Whatever, man." He mumbled, relaxing just a little further into the mattress, the banter doing its job and easing some of his fear.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Sam's eyelids began to droop, sleep was taking hold of the worn-out body. Unfortunately, the soul within the skin was far too stubborn, and each time Sam's eyes fell closed, he forced them open again.

"If you…uh…if you wanted to turn the sound on, I wouldn't mind." He announced, his husky voice just barely raised enough to break the silence.

"Seriously? You whine about my taste in music, but the grating Candy Crush sound effects are fine?" I balked.

I looked down, seeing Sam shift a little and chew on his bottom lip.

"It's too quiet." He rasped.

I frowned.

"It's supposed to be, so you can fall asleep." I pointed out, unnecessarily.

"Yeah I know, it's just…the only time it was ever quiet in the cage was when something really terrible was going to happen, you know? A sort of calm before the storm."

I kicked myself for making the kid give an explanation. Sam didn't like the quiet, we would rid of the silence, it was as simple as that.

"Alright, well if its noise you want, I think I can do better than this cringe-worthy shit. But you've got to close your eyes, Sam." I declared, hoping the lame negotiation would work.

"Dean." My brother sighed.

"Don't 'Dean' me Samantha, just close your eyes. Nothing is going to happen to you. I'm right here. C'mon little brother, just trust me."

And damn if that didn't seal the deal.

My brother was radiating reluctance, but he allowed his eyelids to fall shut, however he was still tense enough for me to tell that he had no intention of surrendering to sleep.

I placed my eyes back on the game at my fingertips, but my focus never wavered from Sam as I began to hum.

It was a Zeppelin song of no personal significance, but the tune played easily in my head as I hummed the melody. At first Sam had no reaction, but slowly he began to uncurl, his muscles relaxing. I glanced down at the feel of a slight pull on my clothing. Sam's long bony fingers were lightly fisting my right pant-leg, just above my knee and his forehead was pressed up against the side of my thigh.

My heart swelled with emotion for the young man holding onto me the same way he had back when he was just a child and searching for protection from the fearful games his mind would play in his sleep.

Before I consciously thought of doing so, I reached down and began to lazily card my fingers through Sam's ridiculous hair.

"I got you, Sammy. I got you." I promised.

Sam nuzzled closer to me before releasing a sigh that – for the first time that day—did not sound the least bit strangled.

"I told him you would come." He whispered.

I stilled at the comment.

"I told him you would come and kick his ass."

I found myself grinning at the threat, as a lump clogged my throat.

Because if was just so fucking Sam to have that kind of faith in me. To stand face-to-face with the devil and tell him that his big brother was on his way.

I didn't know what I did to deserve Sam, but I was just so damn glad to have him.

Because even in times where everything was unravelling, where everything turned to shit, Sammy still had faith and he had it in me.

It baffled me.

Even after – literally the last couple years – of me constantly letting the kid down, he had faith that I would storm the gates of hell to save him.

Damn, this kid

"I always will, Sammy. Always will." I promised.

And for the first time in what felt like too fucking long, a soft smile graced Sam's face, erasing – for just a moment – all the agony that had been dominating his features.

"I know." He whispered, his hand tightening its hold on my pants as he pressed closer to me, blatantly seeking the comfort I was more than willing to provide.

I returned to humming softly and dragging my fingers through my brother's tangled locks. Sam finally surrendered himself to sleep, and even though I knew it wouldn't be long until he was screaming himself back into consciousness, I hoped the nightmares would stay at bay long enough to grant the kid some much needed peaceful rest.

I brushed the hair from Sam's forehead and frowned at the bruises marring his face. My thumb grazed over a dark patch of skin on his jawline.

"Should have got you out sooner, kiddo. I'm sorry." I muttered regretfully.

Sam shifted closer but made no response, his breathing thankfully slow and steady in his sleep.

"When are they going to figure it out? Huh, Sammy? When are they going to understand what family means to us?" I commented quietly.

The nightmares would come.

Sam would scream, maybe even cry.

I might end up learning more about the cage, information that would fuel my own night terrors.

Eventually I would get Sam back to sleep.

We would wake up tomorrow and not talk about tonight.

We would climb out of bed and get back to the fight against evil, that fight that never seemed to cease.

But in the meantime, Sammy needed comfort, he needed my support; and if I was honest with myself, I needed to feel him safe and alive right next to me.

I also needed Sam's faith. I didn't deserve it – probably never would – but damn did I need it. I needed it to get me through, to keep me fighting, there was no better motivation to win the battle than the knowledge that your little brother was not only counting on you, but believing in you to do so.

Betting on the fact that you would come for him, save him.

I wiped at my eyes and worked to swallow the lump in my throat.

Sam had gotten me through so much in life; the loss of our mother, the loss of our father, hell, hopelessness, self-loathing, guilt, rage. His unconditional love, forgiveness, and faith had saved me from myself and the world, time and time again. Sam had seen me through it all. And I would do the same for him.

Every moment.

Every day.

For the rest of our lives.

Because that is what family did, and even though the rest of the damn planet didn't seem to understand that, we did.

Sam and I understood what family meant.

What we meant, to each other.

Which was everything.

 **The End**

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Note: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, or at least someone did. I would love to hear your thoughts if you have a spare moment. Thanks again! - Sam


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